


Hold Her Down

by alphamikefoxtrot



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2017-12-28 05:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/988228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alphamikefoxtrot/pseuds/alphamikefoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"She may contain the urge to run away but hold her down with soggy clothes and breezeblocks."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Your Fever's Gripped Me Again

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Alt-J's Breezeblocks. Though when I say inspired, it's more on the line of 'I have trouble translating my ideas'. Unbeta-ed and might be revised later.

He watched her scream and kick. He watched her fight valiantly.

"You won't win, love," he hissed, licking his lips as his eyes grew darker. All around them was chaos as his army surged and shifted. Devoured. He raised his chin and breathed in the air with pride. They were winning.

"Yeah? I'll die tryin' first." Her eyes sparked with something that screamed sworn enemy at him.

She got away with a Captain.

***

When they meet again they both were alone and she caught him by the hand.

"Don't you remember?" She asked. Her lower lip was trembling. In what, he didn't know but her hand felt so warm in his deathly cold grip. His eyes travel down the apple of her cheek to her pale throat. The rhythm of his breathing would match her heartbeat, he thought, if only he needed to breathe. Killing her in the next second would be so easy no one would even have the time to bat an eye. The Captain wasn't around to save her again.

_Why isn't she running?_

"I'm Rose." 

She was containing her urge to run away, he can tell. The way she fidgeted with the gold adorning her left ring finger was unmistakable. She should have ran, let her feet take her away from him.

"Rose." Her name rolled upon his tongue like a word often fondly spoken of, full of memories and a curse.

He dropped her hand and he ran.

He ran like a madman. He ran until he's out of breath and he ran until he couldn't lift a muscle. He couldn't stand the look in her brown eyes. They were so full of something he could no longer name. Something he didn't deserve, along with something else. So powerful, ancient, and bright.

It threatened to rip his throat and for the first time in a long, long while, he was scared.

***

_RoseRoseRoseRose._

He should have said something to her the second time they met. They were closing in on him and they were prepared. He repeated her name in his mind like a mantra because somehow her name made him focus.

He still didn't see that blow coming.

***

"Where is Rose?"

Someone was gripping his jaw. If his captor moved his hand lower he could easily strangle him. Shame he won't die that way.

"Where. Is. _She?_ " His captor repeated, pushing him back roughly against the uneven surface of the brick wall. He can tell because he had painted all over it with his face for the last two days.

"I don't know. I don't have her."

His throat and lips were dry. Even his tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. They won't let him drink. _Clever move_ , he thought, _even if these idiots won't take no for an answer._

They broke his right arm but he was just glad he's ambidextrous.

***

On the fourth night, he escaped. Killing the guard was easy when they thought he was dying. They wasn't half wrong, he thought wearily, clutching his useless right arm in his leather jacket. Drinking the guard's blood was desperate and stupid, stupid, _stupid_. His blood was poisonous and he slowed down with each step.

_Oh Rose..._

They were going to catch him again.

But then he saw her face. A wisp of golden-yellow hair—he realized could recognize her anywhere. If it wasn't his mind playing tricks then she must be real. 

"I can save you!" She shouted.

Unblinking, he reached out with his unbroken hand and she pulled him home.


	2. Do You Know Where the Wild Things Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"They go along to take your honey."_

The next time he woke, it was near midday—he had an innate time-sense, the very same that had never failed him even before he Turned. Colours were playing and a sliver of light beamed from the slightly open curtains. Particles of dust danced before his eyes, enjoying themselves under the sun. _The sun!_ In a knee-jerk reaction he fell face first into the carpeted floor from the bed. In a few more minutes the light would reach the bare skin on his form and burn him. He was no longer welcomed as shadows became his confidant.

From the floor he could hear somebody shouting. He felt like shouting himself from the agonizing pain searing his fingertips to his right shoulder he had so conveniently landed on. Something was very, very wrong. His pain tolerance had never been at such a low point. Grinding his teeth together to prevent any unsightly whimper, he rolled to his unhurt side. The effort had all fight abandoning him. Releasing a shaky breath, for a moment he considered passing out again and let the sun dust him. At least he would be unconscious then it won't hurt as much. Yes, he would be a pile of ashes dirtying the beautiful Persian rug, but 'ashes to ashes', right?

Two sets of footsteps—one heavier than the other—closed on him and he heard the curtains being pulled close along with a steady voice, quite aptly mentioning the obvious.

"Jack, he's awake."

***

So much for letting the sun burn him. The owner of said voice had closed the curtains and covered every visible and conceivable natural light source. The room he was in and the bed he was back on again was blanketed in darkness so thick he almost felt like he was at home again.

 _Home_. The walls were blue, but in the dark no one could tell so he let himself be lied to. He'd believe anything right now.

"I can save you," she said again. A hand, presumably hers, touched his cold cheek. He believed every word she said.

***

Delirious, was the word. Alone he laughed and laughed, sending people away—if there were ever people around in the first place—and masking his pain. Come Kala he roamed free in the threshold, as far as the doors would let him. He turned the knobs with his left hand as he would never regain the usual ease of his right arm again. It was a large price to pay for things he wasn't sure he'd bought. He thought he saw that blasted Captain from the corner of his eyes, watching his every step, but there was pity in his bright eyes. And concern. It was an unnatural combination, and he smelt _off_

Two and a half days in his fever, the Captain sat vigilant beside his bed.

"What do you want from me?" He hissed at the Captain.

The bright eyes that had watched him gave nothing away. "Nothing."

"Liar." The Captain looked genuinely hurt and something in him sneered happily.

***

The last time he woke, a different pair of eyes were looking down at him with nothing but a blank, lost stare that he reflected in his own eyes. The owner of those eyes was holding his hand. He knew she had a name of the flower with a golden halo around her head and she was warm to the touch and _God_ , he could feel her pulse fluttering in the veins on her wrist. It was again her hand that told him she was so viciously alive. She froze under his gaze when a snarl escaped his lips.

As his teeth sank into the soft flesh on her skin and drew blood, he could believe his heart had started beating again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a year! I apologise for so many reasons. I still don't know where am I going with this. Frankly I just went over my old works, stumbled upon this and decided to write a follow up. This had always been a multi-chapter story in my mind, alas, inspiration escaped the grip when the mind became rusty. I'm not sure I have full grip of said inspiration even now. Still unbeta-ed, all mistakes are mine yada yada yada.


End file.
